What You Are
by Walrushlee
Summary: Gamzee can't remember much, but he knows it can't be good. Gamzee's POV during the Gamzee Massacre. Oneshot.


AN: Hey, this has been in the making for a while, so let's get right to it then, shall we?

Wallace the Walrus: Walrushlee does not own Homestuck. Or the movie I belong to. To all those who watched it, at least Equius and Nepeta didn't die in Canada.

Walrus: That's a reference, calm down, we love Canada. The money's awesome. If you can tell us where Wallace comes from, we'll let you request a oneshot.

Your head's pounding.

Ugh, you have no clue what's going on. You can't remember much, but you can remember what happened an hour ago.

You were lying curled up on the horn pile, in a huff. You really hadn't wanted to troll the humans, but Karkat made you, saying that as your leader and your moirail, you _had_ to.

Everything had gone fine, before that Dave human sent you that video.

Filthy lies coming from that boys whore mouth. Like shit that's where your religion came from. It was odd though…

So you were lying on the horn pile staring at the wall and glaring at the backs of your so called friends. None of these motherfuckers would have a feeling jam with you. That makes you even more mad. And fidgety. You were never mad. Or fidgety. Certainly not both!

Crap. You got that wicked craving for another pie. Some wicked elixir wouldn't hurt either.

You slide off the pile, a few horns coming with you, making light 'honks' and 'clanks'. Whatever, Kanaya'll pick them up.

You walk over to the transportalizer and make your way to your room. Sadly, the whole adventure didn't let you pack, move or bring much. You insisted on your horns, Faygo and unicycle. Your walls felt bare without the usual poster so you printed some stuff off of the internet. It was kind of shitty but better than nothing.

Sadly all the adventuring left you without a recuperacoon. Luckily, you were like a troll boy scout up in this bitch and you had made sure to fill some empty bottles with sopor. You were good to go.

You kind of dread the day you run out. Before sopor, you were this sad little boy, spending all your time waiting for a lusus that didn't come home, staying for a day at the most, an hour at the least. You discovered sopor on accident, and found your cult by accident. Since you discovered both you'd stopped giving a shit and just been happy. You'd never felt so good and didn't dare stop either, the feels would never get to you.

You walk into your room, sifting thru the meaningless trash and bottles.

Wasn't there one here? …crap, no, you left them over _here._

Shit, no, you had to use that.

Here? No.

Motherfuck. You're out. There's no chance anyone else brought slime as you're the only one who eats it, and they hate you for it.

What? No, they don't _hate_ you for it, it's just not their favorite thing. Damn, now you're bummed. You head out the door, grabbing a grape Faygo before stopping. You'd like to be alone when the gloomies start so that maybe you can get a grip.

You turn back around, headed for your horn pile. You brought enough horns for two horn piles, but not enough sopor to last you the trip? Pathetic.

You flop down on the pile, choosing to ignore the honks that usually make you so happy. You close your eyes and sigh.

Not ten minutes later, there's a sort of prickly itchy feeling at the nape of your neck. You scratch and scratch but there's no relief. As time goes on, the feeling intensifies and spreads, till you're lying on the floor, wriggling around, looking for relief that will surely never come.

And it makes you mad.

So mad.

The anger from before has nothing on this. Black spots appear in your vision and you're mind loses its grip on time.

That's the last real memory you have.

The next memories are few and scattered.

You're sitting on top of one of the big jars the lab holds, looking down at a confused Equius. Everything's tinted red. That's gone.

Next you're holding Nepeta's hand? No, wrist. She's looking at you with tears on her face and fear in her eyes. You might be standing on something. Sorry Kitty, you're gone too.

You're standing in a room, peering around a wardrobe. It doesn't matter. Terezi's a few feet away, hugging a white scalemate. Cal is in your hand.

From then on, your memories get worse.

Heads and blood and bodies and jars, flit thru your mind. You can't make sense of it all, but you're vaguely aware of it being your fault. You were sitting at a table filled with heads at some point, but that doesn't last long. Not a whole lot of this does.

You're falling.

The last sliver of memory you have is staring down your moirail on the rooftop.

And then it all stops.

You're holding Karbro, and he's made the burning stop. He's made everything stop.

Then other stuff happens and the Green Sun is like right there _,_ but you're only half aware. Because another burning has started. It's in your chest, behind your eyes and…across your face? Because you're suddenly aware of what the hell you've done.

Of what the hell you've said.

Of what the hell you _are._

The dark carnival doesn't seem so wonderful anymore.

AN: I hope you liked it, cuz this took awhile to type out. My hands hurt…

Nepeta: My wrist hurts.

Gamzee: Review or I'll do it again.


End file.
